


Emotional Support Werewolf

by klingonvalhalla



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: M/M, Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klingonvalhalla/pseuds/klingonvalhalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam finds a stray dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dog

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from the Spacedogs chat group about Nigel being a therapy dog. It spiraled from there.

He’d seen the dog on the trail a few times close to dusk. His coworkers told him to keep away from it, especially if it was as big as Adam said it was. He didn’t exaggerate. Adam never exaggerated. So when he told Carol that the dog’s back was level with his hip and he estimated it to be between 200 and 250 lb., Carol took it very seriously.

“Are you sure it’s not a bear?”

Of course it wasn’t a bear. He’d seen bears on tv and in books and this dog wasn’t a bear. The ears were all wrong, and the face was too angular. He suspected the dog had a skin condition, since it was bald around it’s face and paws. The skin was gray, almost leathery. At least it wasn’t mange; that much he determined. 

The dog never showed any aggression. It just watched him from the brush. It’s bald face poking out from the foliage, following him with bright green-gold eyes. Adam began greeting it whenever he saw his silent companion. At first a nervous: “h-hello, dog.” It sounded silly talking to an animal, but people talked to dogs. He didn’t understand why, but decided to try it. “Hello. I’m sorry I can only refer to you as dog. I’m not sure what else I could call you.”

“Hello again, I had to stay half an hour overtime today.” He said when he saw the familiar silvery brown bulk through the trees. “My routine is behind, but I wanted to at least take a short hike so you wouldn’t worry about me. Not that I think you worry, though I-I don’t know very much about the cognitive abilities of dogs. Maybe you do. I shouldn’t assume what others think.”

Adam found himself face to face with the dog. It’d never approached him before, and now that it did, he realized it was much larger than he’d originally estimated. He reached out and patted the dog on the head. It’s fur was grimy, but soft beneath his fingertips. The rasp of it as he smoothed his hand across it’s head felt nice. The buzzing discomfort of today’s routine deviation melted away with each stroke of his hand.

“I’d read that people with anxiety do well with pets. I never understood exactly why. Pets are unpredictable and messy.” Adam smiled at the dog, who watched him unblinking. “I think I know why now.” 

He gave a final stroke, enjoying the prickling against his palm. His fingers brushed over the stiff, pointed ears. He’d never noticed that the ears were just as bald as the face. “I need to start dinner or it will be too late. Goodbye, dog.”

When he turned the walk back down the winding trail that led to the park in his neighborhood, the dog followed. He listened to the thump thump thump of it’s large paws on the packed dirt behind him. Over his shoulder, he saw it was only a few steps behind. It stopped when he stopped. Adam wasn’t sure what he should do. He couldn’t tell the dog to leave or that he wasn’t sure if he could have a dog in his home. He certainly didn’t have any dog food, or a leash and collar. He wasn’t prepared for a dog. A dog didn’t fit into his routine.

The dog, however, followed him to his front door. It’s claws clicked on the hardwood as it walked through the foyer and into the living room. It stood next to the couch and looked around. Adam could see it’s nostrils quivering and it’s breath coming in deep bellows as it sniffed around. 

He didn’t know what to do. The dog was too large to physically move outside. Telling it to leave obviously wasn’t going to work. The dog, done inspecting the living room, disappeared into the kitchen. Adam heard the refrigerator door open.

 

Adam rushed into the kitchen, afraid the dog would make a mess or break something. He came through the doorway as it was pulling out the pack of honey turkey he’d picked up from the deli yesterday. The thought to tell it no crossed his mind, but he also didn’t have anything else to give the obviously hungry dog.

It must’ve been trained, because it opened the package with surprisingly dexterous paws. The meat lasted only moments as it dropped all delicacy and manners to tear into the thin slices. The dog glanced up at him once it was finished with an almost sheepish expression. It looked inside the open refrigerator for a moment before it heaved a great sigh and closed the door with it’s paw.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to really feed you. I-I wasn’t expecting you to follow me home.” He edged past the dog as it sat on it’s haunches next to the table. “I’m going to cook dinner now. Um, would you like me to make enough for you?”

The dog didn’t answer, though Adam knew he wouldn’t. It simply watched him gather the up the ingredients for macaroni and cheese. Carol had introduced him to an easy recipe that was better for him than the boxed kind he’d been used to. He liked measuring out everything in individual bowls. The process was relaxing. Everything was in order and the order created macaroni and cheese. 

He doubled the amount of each ingredient and glanced over his shoulder at the dog. It sat just as it had before he began cooking. The only indication it was still behind him were the deep rasping breaths. “I don’t know if this is good for dogs, but this is the best I can do until I can go to the store tomorrow.”

 

The dog ate with relish, holding the bowl between it’s front paws so it wouldn’t slide across the tile. Adam typically cooked to have some to take to lunch the next day, and just enough leftover for dinner if he was too tired. The dog consumed four additional portion’s worth. Was his cooking that good, or was the dog that hungry?

When he bent to retrieve the clean, but slimy bowl he felt a hot wetness slide over his hand. The dog’s pink tongue disappeared behind it’s crooked yellow teeth. He looked at the shining spot on his skin as the dog got up and walked back into the living room.

“Thank you,” he said. He wasn’t sure that was the right response, if a response was even warranted. 

Once the dishes were rinsed and put away in the dishwasher, he went to check on the dog. Typically he would read until 8:30, then shower and go to bed. The dog interrupted that schedule, but he felt none of the anxiety associated with such a deviation. It was odd to think on it and not find that little ball of stress building in his chest. 

He followed the dog as it inspected the house. It would push the doors with it’s paws or it’s head, and if one wouldn’t open, it’d reach for the knob. The paws looked more like they belonged on a raccoon or an opossum: the palms were long, ending in short, claw tipped fingers. It’s thumb was blunt but opposable. Strange, but not completely out of the realm of impossible.

“I wonder who trained you,” he said to the dog as it walked around his bed. The large head lifted, looking at him from across the mattress.

 

Adam woke to the rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window. He’d planned to spend his day off seeing if the dog belonged to anyone in the area. So much for that idea, he thought and rolled over to check his clock.

6:35am, 55 minutes before his day begins. Adam stretched and sat up to be greeted by the sight of the massive dog sitting at the foot of his bed. “G-good morning,” he said with a tremor in his voice that betrayed how startled he was. 

The dog stood and walked out. Adam listened to it’s claws tap the hardwood before getting up to follow it. The refrigerator was open again and the dog pulled out the box of leftover pizza from movie night with Carol and Eddie. Adam had forgotten to throw it out when the dog came into his life. 

His routine was off, it was too early for breakfast and the dog was smearing pizza grease on the tile as it ate. It was too early for breakfast but he still poured cereal into a bowl because it felt strange not to. He sat at the table 47 minutes too early and ate bran flakes as the dog finished the last slice of pizza. 

Adam washed the bowl to the sound of cardboard sliding across tile and snuffling. It prickled at the back of his neck and down his spine. He shut his eyes and set the bowl down. It clattered against the counter and the snuffling stopped. 

Retreating back to his room, Adam crawled under the covers and pulled the blanket over his head. Everything felt wrong: the dog was messy, noisy, and it stank. It left a 250 lb hole in his routine and tugged at his nerves. 

Rain or not, once his alarm went off, he’d start checking Craigslist and Facebook groups for lost dogs. A dog that distinctive shouldn’t be too hard to track down. 

Beeping made him jump. His alarm was going off. Adam rubbed at his eyes, disoriented from the unintentional nap. He pushed the blanket from over his head and immediately felt hot, sour breath puff in his face. The dog nosed the alarm off and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped and the bed frame groaned beneath the weight. 

“No, no, you can’t be up here,” Adam tried to push at the dog but it flopped down beside him. It shifted as he protested and squirmed until it’s head was over Adam’s chest and it’s front leg dropped across his belly.

“You’ll get hair and your smell on my covers,” Adam pleaded. “Laundry day isn’t until Tuesday.” 

The dog looked up at him, it’s chin resting on Adam’s breastbone. It shifted until it covered his body completely without crushing him. It waited until he’d settled down, the weight comforting the unease. 

Hesitantly Adam reached up with the arm that wasn’t pinned beneath the dog and buried his fingers in the dense fur around it’s neck. It still stank like sweat and old cigarettes, but the weight and the rhythmic press of it’s breath was relaxing. 

He closed his eyes and focused on the fur and the sound of the rain against the windows. “I don’t hate you,” he said to the dog, “I’m sorry I even thought that. I’m not used to changes like this. I can get away from visiting friends, even work if it becomes too much. I felt like I was trapped, and you are loud and messy. I don’t like those things, but I like you.”

He opened his eyes to find the dog staring at him. It’s brows furrowed in a very human expression before it nuzzled against Adam’s neck. It breath damped his skin and tickled the hairs behind his ears, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. 

Breakfast had been early, so until his 8:30 shower, Adam was content to stay in bed. The dog, his dog, snored loudly, but he found he didn’t mind that at all. 

 

A collar, leash, and seven pounds of hamburger meat sat on Adam’s counter. The dog refused to touch the bag of kibble he’d bought that morning, and seemed almost insulted by the canned variety. It appeared to like deli meat, pizza, and surprisingly: apples. 

Adam had spent about ten minutes watching the dog hold an apple between it’s front paws and eat it. It’s nimble fingers would turn it after each bite until nothing but the core remained. Afterwards it had taken the stem gently between it’s flat front teeth and dropped it in the trash. Adam had exclaimed how well trained it was, and the dog had simply belched in response. 

“I know you may not like a collar, but I can’t be out with you without a leash. It’s against the law,” he said to the dog as he clicked the collar in place. The thick fur immediately hid the nylon band with rainbow trout print. Adam had picked that one because the colors reminded him of the dog’s eyes.

He stroked the dog’s ears, smiling when the dog leaned into the touch. “I’m going to walk for an hour and fifteen minutes, and I want to take you. I really hope you know how to behave on a leash, because I don’t know how to train you for it.”

The dog sat patiently while he clipped the leash to it’s collar. It followed at his side as he walked out of the house and waited until he locked the door. Adam couldn’t help the grin that split his face as the dog lumbered along beside him. 

“Hey Ada-oh my god!” Carol stopped mid stride. Her jogging route intersected with Adam’s preferred path to the park. She was late, since Adam rarely saw her at this time of evening.

“Holy shit, is that-is that the dog you told me about?”

“Yes. He’s very well behaved, don’t you think?” Adam smiled down at the dog, who had sat on it’s rear when he’d stopped. 

“I guess. Jesus,” she paused and glanced downward, “he’s huge. Are you sure it’s a dog, Adam?”

“I believe so, but I’m not sure what breed he is.”

“No offense, but he looks like he’s got something wrong with him. His paws are real wonky.”

The dog huffed and pushed it’s head under Adam’s hand. “It doesn’t seem to affect his movement. He appears healthy, although he’s a picky eater.” Adam rubbed the dog’s bare forehead, “But so am I.”

Carol tentatively patted the dog on the head before she said her goodbye. Adam watched her jog away before continuing to the park. Once he had turned down a secluded trail, Adam crouched in front of the dog. “I don’t know how you feel about human affection, but I really want to hug you. It’s silly, but you make me happy.”

The dog sat as his arms encircled it’s neck. Adam felt it’s chin rest on the crown of his head and it’s chest expand in a deep sigh. 

 

The dog slowly integrated into his routine. Breakfast now began thirty minutes early so he had time to walk with it around the neighborhood. He would leave for work, knowing the dog had access to food and water, then return to find very little amiss. They would walk the trails in the evenings. 

Adam had assumed the dog would go to the bathroom outside, but it refused to do anything when they went out. This left Adam curious until one morning he woke to the sound of the toilet flushing. The dog stopped in it’s tracks at the door, frozen as it stared at him. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Adam suppressed a yawn. “I guess I don’t have to worry about work keeping me late, now.”

He slid over as the dog joined him on the bed. It now understood it was allowed up there the night before, or the morning of laundry day. It didn’t matter how much Adam shampooed it, the dog always had an odd odor.

“I wish I knew what to call you. I’ve tried thinking of dog names, but they all sound silly. You don’t look like a Gizmo, or a Buster.” He let the dog rest it’s head on his chest. The weight and warmth was comforting, and Adam found he might fall back asleep soon. “You must’ve had a name before we met. You’re surprisingly well trained.” This time he couldn’t suppress the yawn, “I wonder what it was.”

 

They went about the day as usual, once Adam pushed the dog off him so he could start his routine. He left the tv on before work, knowing the dog seemed to enjoy looking at it. It probably relaxes him to hear voices while I’m gone, he reasoned. He’d read something to that effect online.

The dog was sitting in front of the couch when he returned. The tv now on a different station. It was some show about cryptid hunting. Adam frowned at the men, cast in shades of green as they stumbled around the woods with audio recordings. “I never understood the appeal of those shows. Everything they claim to capture is simply misunderstood natural phenomena.”

The dog huffed and bumped it’s flat ape-like nose against Adam’s hand. He smiled down at the dog, “I guess if they saw you, they’d probably assume they’d found a werewolf, huh?”

 

It still felt awkward that the dog had no name. He’d looked up popular pet names, baby names, and even names of all the dogs that’d been sent to space. Nothing fit. So Adam simply referred to the dog as “dog”, “he” once he found out it's sex, or “you” depending on the situation. 

Those weren’t exactly the best things for a name tag, but the little piece of metal at least had his address and phone number. So the dog was now Dog.

Carol mentioned getting Dog to the vet for a checkup. He’d been found in the woods, she told him, and there were all sorts of parasites he could've picked up. She also warned him to keep him away from small pets, just in case he had a high prey drive.

Adam considered all of this, but as the prospect of making a vet appointment loomed, he found it caused a great deal of anxiety. He’d have to take Dog into the city. The city meant noise, people, and the risk of small pets.

As they walked along one of the more difficult trails, Adam confessed all of this to his companion. “Carol says it’s better you get neutered.” 

At this the dog halted and looked back at him. 

“It’s okay, I think you’re fine the way you are.” Adam felt the leash slacken as Dog fell in step beside him. “I understand her reasoning. It prevents certain behaviors, but you’ve shown no signs of those. You don't even react to other dogs.” 

In truth it was other dogs that reacted to him. They would yelp, or howl; some would try to run away; while others barked from behind their owner’s legs. Dog, for his part, just watched the spectacles with the same mild interest he reserved for the tv.

Dog wasn’t aggressive, but he wasn’t particularly friendly either. He liked Adam, paranormal investigation shows, cold cuts, and fried eggplant; seemingly in that particular order.

 

As they walked the short distance back to his house, Adam stopped. The door was open. He didn't leave it open when they left. Before he could get closer his arm was jerked roughly when Dog broke free of his grasp. He watched as the leash whipped around the door frame and vanish into the foyer. He’d never seen him move that fast.

Worried for him, Adam rushed to the doorway. The flash and pop down the hall was bright and loud. Shouting and snarling, bumps and thuds, another pop. Adam covered his ears to it all and squeezed his eyes shut, folding himself against the coatrack. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where Dog was, or what was happening in the other room. 

He wanted it to stop so he could have dinner and go to bed. It was so loud.

Everything hummed and his pulse pounded behind his eyes. He rocked, trying to calm down, but his fingers and toes were tingling with anxiety. It stopped when a warm snout pushed past his knees and bumped his chin. Adam opened his eyes to see Dog standing in front of him. His face was spattered with red that dripped onto his pants. Down the length of Dog’s side was a long angry looking gash.

He flopped down with a sigh with his head resting on Adam’s lap.  Adam’s fingers buried into his fur. He stroked Dog’s neck and shoulders until he could breath evenly and find his voice again. “You’re hurt. W-what happened?”

Dog grunted and winced as he sat back up. He walked to the end of the hallway before looking at Adam, waiting until he caught up. Inside the bedroom was chaos. The drawers to his dresser had been pulled out and his electronics were all on the bed. Someone, or what was left of someone, lay in the midst of it all. Blood was staining the duvet and his pillowcases. It was soaking through the rug and getting between the cracks in the floorboards.

Adam opened and closed his mouth. He’d never seen someone dead like that before. He’d never seen someone’s insides laying on the hardwood or a throat open. The trachea was so vibrantly white. He vomited before retreating to the bathroom where there weren’t any bodies. Where everything was still in order and not stained.

“Dog, what are we going to do? I can’t call the police, they’ll take you away after they see what you did,” he cried. Adam sat with his back to the tub and covered his face. His shoes were bloody, and he’d tracked prints onto the white tile. It was going to get in the grout. “Killing people is bad, but you did it to protect me, which isn’t bad.” He stammered on for a little while longer until the emotions overwhelmed him. Adam struck himself in the head without any other outlet. _Stupid, stupid. I'm so stupid for bringing that dog home._

“Stop!”

Adam froze at the voice as two hands gripped his writs to prevent him from hitting himself again. He looked in terror at the strange man who crouched in front of him, naked and bloody. 

The man sat back on his heels and lowered his hands to his lap. Adam saw a gash that ran from his armpit down his side, nearly to his hip. It was the same place Dog had been injured. He focused on the man’s bearded chin. It was brown with a lot of silver hairs. The same color as Dog’s fur.

“Y-you-“

“Yeah. Uh-you weren’t far off, you know? About the tv show last week.”


	2. Romanian Bob-Tailed Shepherd

Nigel blended into his routine, but not without some hiccups. He sat close to the same spots as Dog, watched the same channels at the same volume, and still ate deli meat out of the package with his hands.

Nigel smelled nicer than Dog for the most part, but he smoked occasionally, and he talked a lot. He’d comment on the shows he watched, or ask Adam questions about himself. He’d dress in bizarre combinations with very loud patterns that stressed Adam out just by looking at them. Once he trimmed and shaped up his beard, he was a little less alarming. If only he’d stop wearing those bright red running shorts with those orange socks.

It occurred to Adam that Nigel, like a dog, might perceive colors differently. He made a reminder to ask him about it later. 

He missed Dog, but Nigel was Dog. It was difficult to accept this knowledge, especially when Nigel explained how the “curse” worked. Curses didn’t exist, but then again, Adam didn’t think werewolves existed until six days ago. At least a werewolf was easier to process. Proof was currently sleeping on the couch every night and not cleaning the hair from the shower drain. Proof still walked with him in the evenings and called him gorgeous or darling. “We have a routine, darling.” He said with a shrug when Adam asked him why after a walk. 

Most importantly, proof knew how to grill chicken and stir fry broccoli. He cooked Adam’s safe foods, but seasoned them with a variety of different sauces and spices. Adam tried it all, and Nigel was never insulted if he didn’t like a particular combination. 

He wanted to know how werewolves worked. How a person can change their entire shape and increase their mass. It should be impossible. The stress on the heart alone should kill him. So he asked Nigel one evening while they ate dinner. 

“Does it hurt? When it happens, I mean.”

Nigel paused for a moment and looked down at his bowl of macaroni. He’d crumbled thick bacon and wilted spinach with some balsamic into the mix. “You ever break a bone or tear a muscle?”

Adam nodded. “I broke my wrist when I was ten. I fell off the balcony.”

“How did- never mind; it feels like that. Imagine that pain all over.” At Adam’s concerned expression, he added: “It’s something I was born with, gorgeous, I’m used to it.” He refused to answer anything else while they ate.

Adam tried a few more times throughout the weekend. He got little snippets of information, but Nigel didn't seem to like talking about it. Adam recognized the expression as annoyed, so he left it alone. 

 

“You’ve been quite lately.” Nigel said as he came to sit on the edge of Adam’s bed. It was the morning of laundry day. The house smelled like burnt toast and undercooked eggs. It should’ve bothered him, but Nigel burnt the toast so often that it now signaled the start of his routine more effectively than the alarm clock.

Adam scooted over to let Nigel lay next to him. He was a little less than half the size of Dog, and the bed didn’t creak when he stretched out. He still rested his upper body across Adam. It was comforting, but Nigel’s nearness in this new shape gave him the same feeling he had when Beth kissed him.

“When I ask you about your condition-“

“Curse.” Nigel corrected.

“Curses aren’t real.”

“Well tell that to my great great grandmother and every first born fucking child after her.”

“Diseases and genetic anomalies can be passed- _Sorry_. When I ask you about **_it_** , you seem irritated. Just like you are now. So I stopped because I don’t want you irritated with me.”

“I’m not used to talking about it.” He said after a while. His bearded chin pressed into Adam’s breastbone and prickled through his sleep shirt. “The last person who wanted to know about it broke my heart.”

Adam listened as Nigel told him about his ex-wife Gabi, the incident with Charlie, and the business he operated with Darko. He didn’t go into much detail about what exactly he did, but Adam gathered enough that it probably had to do with drug smuggling. Nigel talked until his voice was hoarse. When he got up to get a glass of water, Adam saw it was nearly noon. He’d missed breakfast while completely enthralled by Nigel’s story. 

 

Adam started to notice that Nigel only went out to the hiking trails or around the neighborhood, but never close to the main roads. If Adam couldn’t or wouldn’t get him cigarettes and beer, he’d cover up with hats or sunglasses. Adam thought it was strange.

He asked Nigel about the behavior, hopefully seeking clarification. In stead Nigel changed the subject and asked him about his sex life. 

Adam stammered for a moment as he tried to determine whether such a question should be considered inappropriate or not. Nigel was on the couch, watching him with those green-gold eyes that now made his chest fluttery.

He eventually told him about Beth. Before he could continue about his few further attempts at dating, Nigel interrupted: “So she sent you a fucking book in some half ass attempt for an apology? That’s fucked up.”

 

“You’re not supposed to wear hats inside.”

Nigel frowned at Adam before adjusting the trucker cap. “It’s call incognito, gorgeous.”

“Well incognito looks silly. The probability of anyone recognizing you is very low.”

“You don-“ Nigel sighed. “You don’t understand how it all works. I was part of a network, love, and networks got connections everywhere.”

Adam seemed to get that analogy, and dropped the subject after telling him: “Have. Networks have connections.” 

A flash to his left caused Nigel to flinch and pull the brim of his hat further down. The two women taking a selfie didn’t seem to notice his reaction as they began to discuss what snapchat filters to use.

Nigel was jumpy for the duration of their outing. This was the furthest they’d ventured out together since Dog came into his life. Adam was glad to be going home so Nigel would lower his defenses. 

They stopped at a convenient store on the way. Nigel needed cigarettes. He asked Adam if he wanted anything before he went inside, as Adam was content to wait beside the ice machine. It was too crowded in there. The hum of the machine drowned out most of the noisiness. 

Adam didn’t expect Nigel to be long, but neither did he expect to be approached by a woman wanting money. She kept asking for spare cash, needing it so she can get to Hollywood. Her little boy was waiting for her. She needed the help. Her ex took her wallet. 

He tried to dismiss her. He didn’t carry cash with him. Nigel should be out soon. The woman, however, refused to leave. Just a few dollars, that’s all, she persisted. “You look like such a nice man. Can’t you help me out?”

The knot of anxiety tightened in his gut. It made his chest feel strange and his fingers tingle. The woman’s voice and the humming machine merged into a roar that rattled his brain. He covered his ears, trying to drown it all out.

Adam wasn’t sure how long his episode lasted, but when he opened his eyes there was a phone screen in front of him with the text: _Do you need help?_

The hand attached the the phone was tanned with a dusting of dark hair. It wasn’t Nigel’s hand and Nigel didn’t have a phone. The man who wasn’t Nigel squatted down in front of him, blocking out the world with worn denim and a threadbare white t-shirt. Adam didn’t remember sitting down. He looked up enough to see a dark beard and the ends of long, sun bleached brown hair.

Adam took the phone and typed: _I got overstimulated. My friend Nigel is inside. I’m waiting for him._

The man nodded, or Adam assumed he did by the way his hair and chin bobbed. He took the phone from Adam and added: _Would you like me to wait with you?_

_Yes._ Adam typed out once it was handed back. 

When Nigel emerged from the store he rushed over. The man explained what happened, though Nigel was, in Adam’s opinion, unnecessarily hostile towards him. He didn’t seem too bothered by this and waved goodbye to them both before getting into his truck. The muffler rumble vibrated through Adam’s body.

“He’s like me,” Nigel said once they’d gotten back home. “The man from the store.” When Adam didn’t immediately respond, Nigel continued: “He’s a werewolf. I could smell it on him.”

“You can _smell_ it?” Adam asked once he found his voice.

“Yes. We smell different.”

 

“Why don’t you change back?” Adam asked one evening. He’d gotten home to find Nigel had ordered pizza for them. It broke routine, but the pizza was good and Adam was tired. There had been three school groups that came in, and he was socially burned out.

Nigel finished the slice of pizza he’d been eating and washed it down with the remainder of a Miller Lite. Adam hated the way it smelled when he’d open one of those cans. “It takes a lot of energy,” he finally said. “And when you spend energy you need to refuel, yes?”

Adam nodded, “So you have to eat immediately after?”

“Yes. Enough to gorge myself. Then I go sleep it off.” He chuckled: “Am I that irritating, darling?”

Adam didn’t understand, and said so.

“You want your dog back.”

“Yes and no. I-I miss Dog. I miss the way your fur felt when I pet you, it helped me calm down.” He stared at the pizza box and the single slice leftover. His fingers sought out the corner of the couch cushion to rub against. “But I like having you here. You cook dinner when I’m tired, and talk to me. It’s like having a friend.” 

When he looked up, Nigel had an odd expression. It looked similar to pain. Harlan had that look when he told him he was moving to San Francisco. Did he say something that upset him?

“Darling, there’s no like about it, I am your friend.” He sat the beer down and slid off the couch. 

Adam couldn’t figure out what he was doing until he scooted next to his leg. He took Adam’s hand and guided it to the thick braid at the back of his neck. “There’s not as much as there used to be, but if you need to relieve some stress just let me know, yeah?”

“Okay,” his fingers sank in between the woven plait. It was finer than Dog’s fur and less prickly. He unwound the braid and raked his fingers through it. Against his calf, he felt Nigel’s chest expand with a sigh.

They sat like that for the duration of the The Force Awakens. It was Adam’s turn to pick that night, and Nigel had admitted to having never seen it. “No dogs allowed in the theatre,” he said with a smirk that let Adam know it was a joke. 

As the credits began to roll, Adam moved to get up. Nigel was slumped heavily against his legs. He untangled his fingers from the man’s hair and saw that he’d fallen asleep. He’d never met anyone who could go from awake to asleep so quickly. Not five minutes ago they were discussing plot theories for the next movie. 

 

When Adam got home from work there was a padded envelop was stuck under his doormat. He picked it up and turned it over. It was addressed to him, but there was no postage. Strange, he thought, I didn’t order anything recently.

He thought to ask Nigel is he’d ordered anything and just used Adam’s information. When he went to the kitchen to get the scissors he saw the note: “Gone to pick up things for dinner” scrawled in Nigel’s blocky handwriting. He’d drawn a lopsided star in the corner, which never failed to make Adam smile. 

He should wait to open the package, but curiosity overrode caution. It was addressed to him after all. 

A USB fell out into his open palm. Adam, now slightly more cautious got out his old laptop. The hard drive had been reformatted, he’d just never gotten around to donating it. 

It was a video file. Unease curdled in his gut as he clicked the icon and waited for the player to launch. 

A man came into view introducing his family behind him. He recognized the French language, and understood at least most of what they were saying. It was a camcorder recording, and an old one. The date 15/05/1998 was in the corner of the frame. It cut after the introduction and a panning view of the campsite. The video cut again to heavy breathing and footfalls. He couldn’t make out much until he realized the cameraman was running in darkness.

He heard the man repeating “plaire à Dieu” and “non” over and over. The man shouted and the camcorder dropped. The impact must have hit the light as the image illuminated to reveal a blue and white track jacket being shaken violently. Snarling and wet ripping sounds crackled in the audio as a new face came into view. Adam recognized those eyes, that blunt muzzle, and brown fur not yet tipped with silver. Nigel was eating that man.

He felt sick to his stomach as the video cut abruptly to a BBC news report from 1998 out of a place called Slobozia. The anchor detailed the slaughter of a young French family and their three children camping in southern Romania. The forensic report claimed it was the work of a large unidentified predator. 

Another cut, and another report from 2003. He didn’t understand the language, but gathered enough that it was about four people murdered behind a nightclub in Bucharest. 2007, six people killed in a cafe; 2010, one dead and one missing; 2011, fourteen killed in a warehouse in Piatra Neamt. The man at the scene was explaining something in Romanian before the cameraman panned to a table with white powder residue. 

Adam shut the laptop. 

Nigel found the bedroom door closed when he came in. Once he put the arm’s load of grocery bags down, he knocked, jiggled the knob only to find it locked. Adam listened to the muffled sounds through the door. He heard the television come on and saw the light to the kitchen shine through the crack. 

The starchy scent of cooking pasta started to filter in from beneath the door. It wasn’t long before Nigel knocked again. “Dinner’s ready if you want to eat.” He paused and Adam heard the scuff of his shoes against the hardwood. “I left the,” he snapped his fingers, “what is- _aragaz-_ the coils on low so it won’t get cold.”


End file.
